“I need more practice…”
“I’m never going to say no to more of that, Helen.”
The mood changed as she registered my choice of words, and I took a breath and she did, too.
My beautiful girl was beautifully dirty; the tops of her thighs dry with blood and sex, and her face splotched with cum, and humour and an irresistible hint of self-consciousness.
I pushed myself up from the bed, and reached out a hand. “Come,” I said. “Let’s get you all cleaned up.”
***
Helen
I screwed my eyes shut and let Mr Roberts lead me, and I was laughing. My eyes were stinging, and my cheeks felt weird and clammy, and I was still sore and sensitive between my legs. But I was happy.
Oh my God, was I happy.
He led me along the corridor, and through a doorway, and there were tiles under my feet. He dropped my hand, and I opened my eyes enough to take in my surroundings. His bathroom was as artistically disorganised as the rest of his house, with plants trailing from the windowsill and paintbrushes resting on the basin. I watched him reach into the bathtub and turn on the shower head, and he tested the heat of the water, only pulling back the shower curtain when we were good to go.
I stepped up into the bath and into his arms, and it was so warm there, cocooned in his grip as the shower rained down on me. He tipped my face up to the cascade, and I held my breath and closed my eyes as his fingers washed away the stickiness and the saltiness and the stinging.
He smoothed my hair under the water, teasing out the lengths before grabbing a bottle. He lathered shampoo into my scalp, then carried on down, frothing me up with body scrub that smelled of tea tree and citrus. I enjoyed the moment, moving wherever he guided, as he washed me and stroked me and pressed his lips against my wet skin. His fingers felt like heaven as they soaped my breasts, tweaking and coaxing until I could feel myself rolling into him. I gasped as his hand slipped between my legs, but he was so gentle, soaping me up and washing me down, leaving no part of me unclean.
But I didn’t feel self-conscious.
I felt loved.
I wanted to do the same for him, but he was tall enough that he had to crouch for me, and I was giggling all over again. His hair was surprisingly long when it was wet, curling down around his shoulders. I loved the feel of it around my fingers.
I loved the feel of his wet skin against mine.
He was hard again as I soaped him, and I wondered if he’d take me again, but he didn’t. He pressed me against the tiles and planted his mouth on mine, and kissed me, and I kissed him. And I wanted to pinch myself, over and over again, just to make sure this was really happening.
Finally, when we were a sud-free zone, he kissed the top of my head and turned off the faucet.
He reached for a towel and wrapped me up, and twisted my hair up into a second towel.
And then he sighed.
“I can’t believe I have to get ready now.”
“Get ready?”
“I’m signed up to clear up the function room at the Three Friars. We left it in quite a state.”
I couldn’t hide my disappointment. “Can’t you stay? Do you have to?”
He brushed my lip with his thumb. “I don’t want to let the others down.”
“But it’s a Saturday… it’s…”
“Shitty and ill-timed, I know.”
“Can’t you ring in sick? Tell them you’re ill?”
He laughed at that, and then sighed. “That’s really not my style, Helen; I don’t like letting people down, even though the idea is tempting.” He hugged me to him, kissed my forehead. “Look, the sooner I get there, the sooner I’ll get back.”
I accepted defeat, party over. “Ok, I’ll get dressed.”
But he pulled me back as I went to leave, and his eyes were dark and serious and made my tummy flutter.
“Don’t,” he said. “You can stay… you can wait for me…”
“Stay here?!”
“Why not? I’ll only be an hour or two. Believe me, I’ll be hurrying back.”
“You want me to stay?” I couldn’t stop smiling.
“Yes, Helen, I want you to stay.” He grabbed a towel for himself. “If you can, of course, if you have to get home, I understand.”
“My phone is probably dead, but I could Facebook Mum, tell her I’m still at Lizzie’s.”
“I’ll sign you into the laptop downstairs.”
“Then I’ll stay.”
“And I’ll hurry back.”
***
I stood in the doorway as his car pulled away, wearing nothing but an oversized white shirt and a pair of black ankle socks. I looked like an idiot, but he hadn’t looked at me that way. He’d looked at me like I was the sweetest fruit in all creation, and I’d loved him all the more.
If that was even possible.